


In the Field

by orphan_account



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contractor board-member Weiss Schnee takes a trip to the front-lines for inspection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Field

**Author's Note:**

> Two prompts from /u/ mashed into one.
> 
> Sources used:  
> http://object.cato.org/sites/cato.org/files/articles/isenberg-private%2520military-contractors-2009.pdf  
> https://www.fas.org/sgp/crs/natsec/R40764.pdf  
> https://oversight.house.gov/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/20090610CWCJointstatement.pdf

Weiss thought she knew heat. Clearly the heat she had experienced during her visits to a country a lot further south had been to ease her in.

The air itself, outside vehicle, was not that bad. It was all the extra layers between her and the moving air that made it unbearable. The reinforced glass through which she saw the barren and dry wastes of the country-side tormented by this decade-long conflict was the first hinder for the air. Then came the photochromic layer on the inside of the glass - putting it on the outside had proven a poor choice as the dust storms scratched it off too quick to be economically justifiable.

Then there were the seat, hard plastic that scathed through the multitude of protective layers she wore. Easily replaced seats, as IEDs and irregular accidents quickly eroded any decent quality leather. Her helmet, in beige camouflage, was too big and jumbled along with the car's suspension as it hit countless rocks and ditches. Luckily she didn't have to wear the oversized gloves with reinforced knuckles like the other passengers. But the knee-pads and arm-pads had been strapped on too tight and she feared she'd lose her limbs to her gear instead of any enemy attack.

Her small stature made it easy for her staff, they'd just hand her their smallest set. It did not however mean the best-fitting, as she had to tuck in a good length of her pants into her boots. And rolled up her sleeves. And tucked the shirt.

Then there were the regiment-required outer protection. A vest that almost reached to her knees as she sat and its back-side juggling just like her helmet. On her family's (board's) request, she also wore a tight bodysuit underneath a more malleable Kevlar alloy vest.

Shifting on the hard seat, Weiss reminds herself that it's a short ride, maybe just another 10 to 15 minutes at most until they're at the camp her company had been hired to build and maintain. She had landed two hours ago at the impromptu military airport and had after another security walkthrough been equipped with the gear she had now come to loath.

This whole visit was purely out of routine, to show their clients (the state) and employees that Schnee Defence Corp. took their responsibilities seriously. It had been a few trying months back home that led to Weiss being assigned this trip. More representatives, both in the market and in politics, had gotten their eyes on the steadily growing flow of money that was sent the ways of Weiss' and her kind. When a newly released report stated there were almost equal amounts of contractors to that of the nation's armed forces in the country, it officially hit the fan for Weiss.

"They are not all hired for security." She said, countless times in interviews and statements.  
"Most hired are nationals, not hired from abroad." She had added.  
"Most of what we do now is purely infrastructure-related work, construction and maintenance." It was all true, but did little to ease the storm brewing just under her feet.

Mentally scribbling a few notes for her upcoming meeting with the camp's commanders and army representatives, Weiss barely noticed the vehicle slowing down. Only when the small speaker-bead built into her helmet sparked to life, bringing her the raspy voice of the caravan's CO.

"Ma'am, we're going to stop for just a short moment to have a member of our recon team board. We'll be moving again momentarily." The CO, a tall red-head with Mediterranean heritage and accent sounded almost as tired as she had looked when they picked up Weiss a few hours ago. Maybe her being tired was the reason for her telling Weiss this, as she must have forgotten that Weiss did not have a microphone attached to her helmet like the rest of the squad. Still, she hummed and nodded to the expectant youngster looking back at her from the front seat. He, in turn, voiced something into his mic and the vehicle stopped abruptly.

Through the shutters attached to the wind-shield, Weiss saw the back of the other armoured Humvee that she had been staring at for the last hour or so. It had stopped as well, and it took just like the CO had promised, a few moments for someone to run up to it. The draped camouflaged fabric over her head, back and shoulders did little to hide the fact it was clearly a woman - and one not that much larger than Weiss herself that ran up to the Humvee. And before the door closed, they were moving again.

Another fifteen minutes, and despite not walking, Weiss' feet had started hurting. The bumps and ditches in the road must have shaken her just enough to cause blisters all over her heels. Blisters she now felt damningly close to breaking. Next time she'd have her base's quartermaster prepare proper shoe-

The ground shook, not unlike a massive wave at sea, but still several times quicker. The Humvee rode wave like a drunk surfer, losing grip at the peak but still carrying momentum forward. The force pushing Weiss and the other passengers backwards however did its best to keep the Humvee facing the sky, and before she heard the terrified shouts in her ear she had no idea what was going on.

"IED! MID IS GONE. PROCEED WITH VIP, I REPEA-" Then all hell broke loose, shards of earth, stone and metal hit the front as the Humvee hit the road with a solid thump that had Weiss headbutt her own chest. The shouts, in her own vehicle along with those carried into her earpiece joined the shriek in her ears. Nose hurting, possibly bleeding from its collision with the breast-piece, Weiss tried to look up to see what had happened but was quickly pushed back down towards her knees.

"Head down! Stay low for fuck's sake!" The youngster in the front, who had barely uttered a word throughout the trip shouted at her while reaching back to press her head firmly against her armour. His hand then moved to shift her by the waist, to lay down on the empty seat to her side and with the seat hitting her bleeding nose with every bump, she knew they were moving again.

 

* * *

 

**A year and a half later.**

It had rained. Not that surprising given the season, yet Weiss cursed her poor choice of shoe-wear. The heels were long enough to keep the worst of the splatter from reaching rest of her, but they were still white. And white goes very poorly with dried dirt. Also not surprising, although not related to the season but the location, she could not get a taxi. Rain, in combination with being literally a block from Wall Street ensured busy drivers wherever she looked. A quick peek to the skies that had so lovingly shared their gift with Weiss and her fellow citizens did look spent. So, grabbing hold of her purse and making up a quick map of her walk, Weiss set off.

She had decided to have a light lunch at a Japanese restaurant after a long and tedious executives' meeting, and had a good half an hour to spend on her walk to her next meeting at Broadway.

On her way, she did her best to stay away from the worst puddles and gatherings of water while keeping her regale posture. It took a lot to do heels in bad weather, and even more to do it like Weiss. Weiss far far from along to experience the borderline-poisonous air of New York, without the cheap layer of car ventilation in between. Maybe, unlike Weiss, the rest was used to the weather and had simply accepted it. Longing for the weekend she had planned at her family's country-estate back home was what fuelled Weiss, and imaging the lake barely a hundred metres from the house filled her as she crossed Broadway and entered the small park she had to cross.

Tourists, who unlike Weiss, had time to enjoy the sights and all the city had to offer flocked the open space and Weiss carefully manoeuvred her way past families with children and elderly couples. Glancing around, Weiss wondered if she'd really call it a park, and not just a cemented garden. Of course, a few trees to gather the multitude of birds and at least try to improve the air was altruistic enough, but that small flower-bed in the middle was just plai-.

Weiss stopped with a foot just off the ground, brain working overtime to place the face on the small girl seated at the base of the flower bed. Long, poorly kept, red-tinted black hair. A jacket, still wet from the recent downpour and a squat that seemed terrifyingly natural to someone that young.

As Weiss placed her foot back, her mind clicked and true to her pragmatic nature listed what she had read about a year ago.

An incident report, authored by captain Nikos and with three signatures for validation. An IED had taken out an armoured Humvee, one of four in a caravan in which Weiss herself had been in. Of the five contractors originally assigned to the vehicle, two had survived. Along with on-fly transferred contractor Rose.

Weiss didn't have to write the letters that came along with the report, purely for archival purpose, to the families of the deceased. As the CO, of albeit a private venture, Captain Nikos had the horrifying duty to do so.

There had been no government funded burials. No folded flags or salutes. SDC had funded cremation for the three families, which two accepted. Weiss had not attended any of the ceremonies. She didn't even know when they were.

Of the surviving trio, one was still employed by SDC, although only as tutor. The other two had left, along with compensation for injuries. And then there were Ruby Rose, the sniper who just had gotten into the Humvee. And now sat fiddling with a block of paper and its plastic wrapping.

Weiss herself had made it out mostly unharmed. Only a broken nose, which she had corrected in less than a week after the incident. Her family's insurance got added to her company's by the quick with of her family's solicitor and had another $15m dollar added to her exponentially growing parachute program. The incident had, ironically, proven to the investors that their efforts were clearly needed and with her face as proof guaranteed continued contracts in the region.

She had seen that face on a wrinkled copy of a photograph attached to the report, and hadn't placed any larger interest in it until this moment.

Yet, to see that face here - in a city thousands of miles from where it had all happened, Weiss remained still and staring. Not until the girl, still squatting, patted the wrapping flat and took a seat on it, did she return to the present.

Weiss' astonishment at the fact they met again, turned into troubled surprise as the girl simply got comfortable on the plastic and dug through the pockets of her jacket. Weiss checked her phone, confirmed that she still had some time until her meeting and faced her inner demons. Not until the incident, where she herself had been involved, had she dwelt on the practicalities of her company's dealings. Of course she knew people got hurt, or even killed, she had read the reports. But now she was a part of the reports, and it had nestled itself into the back of her mind. What could she have done differently? Could she have helped, or done more?

With purpose, like always, she strode up to the girl by the flowers who had now begun penning something with wild movements. On closer inspection, Weiss noticed, it was not writing but drawing that occupied the girl. And she was sure of it was she stood right next to the girl and had perfect view of the beginning sketches on the paper.

"R-Rose? Ms. Rose, is that you?" Weiss tried to gain the girl's attention by politely asking confirmation but gained none in return. The girl kept sketching, her hand moving quickly over the piece of paper and Weiss guessed she could make out a tree if she squinted.

"Excuse me, ms. Rose? Do you have a minute?" Still no reaction, but the girl did break to scratch her cheek with the pencil. Giving her weathered cheeks some smudge of graphite. Crouching as well, Weiss tried anew but was cut off as the girl jumped at the shadow Weiss had created against the drawing.

"Oh, shi-!" Ending her expletives short, Ruby gave Weiss a quick look-over to quickly change her tone.

"Ms. Rose, how are you?" Now seeing the face from the photograph, quickly aged but with the same eyes, Weiss was certain.

"Hm, no, sorry. Can't hear." Ruby quickly replies before Weiss finishes, shaking her head. Shocked, Weiss remains silent.

"Deaf, accident. Can I help?" The way Ruby over-articulates and tries to keep the same tone makes it clear she's not faking. She really can not hear Weiss. Unsure what to say, Weiss tries from the beginning.

"Are you Ruby Rose?" Like talking to a child, she accentuates her talking while her hands try to do...something. The way Ruby's eyes follow her mouth tells Weiss she's probably trying to read her, but the troubled frown makes it clear she's not doing too well.

So, Ruby simply grabs an empty sheet of paper, and hands it over to Weiss along with her pencil.

If this is what it takes, Weiss thinks to herself as she accepts the tools to communicate with Ruby. With the paper pressed against her knee, she does her best to write out her questions.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> So, here it is - a one-shot that took way too long for me to start.  
> I'll do my best to shape up and actually write, so see y'all around?  
> (Still looking for beta/proofreader.)


End file.
